Red Lily
by Arwen Imladviel
Summary: Lily Maggot, a hobbit maiden, faces the hard rules of a game of hearts and the hard times clouding the skies of the Shire. Rape alert, non-graphic. Pippin and Merry have roles to play in her story, too. Altered to fit canon!
1. The Seeds of Danger

All characters belong to the estate of J.R.R Tolkien, except those of my own invention.  
  
This is a new version of the story, now completely in canon. Some dialogue may differ because I didn't have the English original of The Lord of the Rings, but used a translation.  
  
Red Lily  
  
By Arwen Imladviel  
  
Chapter One: The Seeds of Danger  
  
A lily is a proud flower, a duchess of the garden. She stands straight- backed, wrapped in her thick leaves, clad in colours gloriously bright. A lily knows nothing of the girlish frippery of roses, the simple sunshine of daisies, the slender fragility of bluebells. A lily is a lily with all her heart.  
  
So was Lily Maggot, the farmer's youngest daughter. She was proud of the fact that where ever she went, she turned the heads of young hobbits. She was not pretty like her eldest sister Rose, not golden-haired like the middle sister Daisy, not delicate like Bluebell, her sister-in-law. She had large bones that made her figure broad and her face full of angles. But she walked in an enticing way, and she wore red. Red is not a traditional hobbit colour, and Lily had made many experiments with dyes before managing to colour her best dress red as blood. Her mother shook her head in dissaproval, her brothers taunted her, her sisters gossiped about her and her father never mentioned the matter, which was worst. And yet Lily Maggot wore her red dress in every possible occasion, stunning many a young heart.  
  
A maggot is an inhabitant of the earth, a digger of roots, a companion of death. So were the Maggots. They were a respectable family, but farmers nonetheless. They knew the fields and lived close to the ground, despite the fact that they dwelt in a house, not in a traditional hobbit-hole. Yet of such simple folk there were strange rumours about: whispers that old Farmer Maggot sometimes went to the Old Forest, and stayed there even overnight. And came back. He always came back.  
  
There was one moment that Lily would afterwards remember as the starting point of all the big troubles. One meeting that brought the shadow upon her life. The day was like any other day, and Lily was feeding the hens, when she heard the hooves on the road. Galloping hooves, nearing, nearing fast. She ran to the gate and peered over.  
  
And saw a black rider on a black horse. Coming closer. From the road that led nowhere but the fields.  
  
'Who is he?', she thought while running to find her father. 'The sound of the hooves is like Death himself riding wild, bringing pestilence over our fertile land. I do not want to see this rider any closer. But I will watch nonetheless, because I must know. Not knowing in matters like this just makes things all the more scary.' She ran around the yard only to find him inside the house, and told him about the stranger, panting like one of father's dogs.  
  
Then they heard the steps of the horse. Lily had left the gate open and the man had ridden almost right to the doorstep!  
  
Trembling herself, Lily lifted her head to face the stranger. This turned out to be impossible, since the man's face was hidden by a hooded robe. Instantly the maiden imagined all kinds of horrors watching her from the shadow of that black garment.  
  
She lowered her head, but remained beside her father, listening.  
  
Farmer Maggot stepped out and greeted the stranger. He told him the road went nowhere, in his special tone of voice held in store for unwanted visitors and mushroom-thieving children. From behind her Lily heard one of the dogs step out, howl and run away. She dared not turn to look which one it was.  
  
'I come from over there'. Lily did not look up to see which way the man pointed: she knew already he must have ridden over their fields.  
  
'Have you seen Bagginss?' There was a noticeable hiss in the voice.  
  
Lily heard her father tell him that the Bagginses lived west to Hobbiton and that this was not the road to get there. What the dark stranger replied made Lily shudder.  
  
'The Baggins has left. He is coming. He is not far. I want to meet him. If he goes this way, will you tell me? I will come back and bring gold.'  
  
'No you won't', said Maggot, threating to set the dogs on him.  
  
The stranger hissed, and rode his horse almost over poor Maggot, who stepped aside just in time. Lily screamed. Her father called the dogs, but the man was out the gate and on his way to the highway. And the dogs did not come.  
  
'Why did you tell him, father?'  
  
'Tell him what?'  
  
'Where the Bagginses live!'  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Because he looked nasty! The dog feared him!'  
  
'You are making hasty conclusions, Lily. The dog was just surprised about the horse, they've never seen one before.'  
  
'But what if he hurts the Bagginses? It's your fault then, for telling him.'  
  
'What would you have done, daughter?'  
  
'Sent him to Bree!'  
  
'And when he'd find no Bagginses in Bree, wouldn't he come back and hurt us for telling lies? If he's so bad, I mean.'  
  
'But... but... father, I was so scared of him.'  
  
'I was a bit scared too. Thank goodness he is not our trouble anymore.'  
  
'He's the Bagginses' trouble. And nobody deserves that kind of guests, even in the West Farthing.'  
  
'My darling Lily, you just can't worry all the world's worries. Sadness doesn't become you.'  
  
Lily wanted to say a lot more. She wanted to say she was unbecoming with a smile, too. She wanted to say the man had been in such a hurry he would not bother to come back for such a petty thing as revenge, had he been given wrong directions. She wanted to say this rider was no ordinary man. But before she could arrange her thoughts the dogs ran to the gate, barking furiously. Was the rider back?  
  
But the visitors turned out to be three hobbits. Lily made her way behind the rosebush, where she could listen without being seen. She did not want to be seen by strangers the way she was: her second-best skirt was dusty, and her hair was a mess after she had run around looking for her father.  
  
Peering between rose-branches, Lily heard her father recognize the shortest of the hobbits as one other than Peregrin Took, son of the Thain. Lily instantly decided she would wear the red dress for supper - oh please, let them stay for supper! A round-featured lad glaring suspiciously around himself was named Sam Gamgee, a name Lily had never heard before. But the third one's name she had heard, for he was Frodo Baggins.  
  
Soon Farmer Maggot was telling them about the stranger. Lily peered between rose-branches and saw that Mr Baggins seemed alarmed. He also seemed to be in a hurry.  
  
Nonetheless he accepted Farmer Maggot's invitation for beer and conversation.  
  
After they had gone inside, Lily slipped indoors too and made for her room. She took of the dirty skirt, washed her face, put on the famous red dress, brushed her hair hastily and decorated it with a red ribbon. Feeling she had done all she could, Lily Maggot entered the kitchen. At the one end of it her father was busy telling the visitors about the year's crops - crops of all things, while there were black men on black horses to discuss! The look on Peregrin Took's face told Lily he felt the same way. At the stove Mrs Maggot was busy preparing the supper with Bluebell. Lily offered her help.  
  
'No way in those clothes, girl!' was her mother's reply. What a stupid miscalculation, Lily scolded herself, leaving the room.  
  
Time went on slowly as Lily sat in the garden. She ought to have been doing something useful, having changed her clothes. But she wouldn't miss the visitors' departure for anything, nor would she change out her pretty dress. To her surprise, the sunset found her seated on the bench by the door, the visitors still inside. The members of the family were coming in for supper. The guests would have supper too! A blazing joy filled Lily's heart as she entered the house. She was soon busy kindling candles and setting the table.  
  
When Lily sat down, she did not take her ordinary place beside her mother, but sat right next to Peregrin Took. She saw her sisters exchange a knowing look, but took no notice. The heir of the Thain gave many a compliment to the golden ale her brother Tommy brewed. Lily noticed how very young he looked, and how innocent. His friends called him Pippin, which was a funny name, but Lily would sooner die than laugh at him.  
  
Then Lily saw an opportunity. Pippin Took was well down his third pint of ale, and becoming rather merry. Nobody was looking at them. Lily leaned closer and whispered a few chosen words in his ear. These were the words:  
  
'I have something to tell you. About the rider that was here. The black man. I felt he was no ordinary man. The dogs felt it, too. Be careful. Please.'  
  
Nothing disgraceful there. Nothing personal ecxept the 'please' - oh, let him notice the tone! - and yet the youth reacted as if he had heard a direct proposal. His eyes widened, he gulped so hard he almost suffocated with whatever he was eating, and started coughing. When he had cleared his throat, his face was red all over. Lily turned red too, when she saw that everyone in their end of the table was looking at her, except Frodo Baggins, who winked at Pippin.  
  
The guests left after supper, Farmer Maggot driving them in his cart to the ferry. It would be a long time before Lily saw them again. 


	2. The Scent of Nectar Attracts Bees and Wa...

Chapter Two: The Scent of Nectar Attracts Bees and Wasps Alike  
  
Lang thought himself a born leader. Tall and lean, he was no warrior, but a thinker, he liked to tell himself. It was a pity his talents were seldom appreciated. Sharkey sure did not think much of him, sending him on these northern trips, and now ordering him to stay here altogether. Or maybe he did. It was hard to know with Sharkey. Every deed of his had a thousand facets.  
  
Right now he was astride a fat pony, his long legs brushing the ground, on a mission of purchasing fields for the Little Master. Responsibility, of a sort. For the actual dealing was not done by Lang, but by the round-bellied old hobbit following him on a pony of his own. Oswald Sackville, attorney, representative of Lotho Sackville-Baggins. But Lang, he was representing Sharkey, seeing to it that the fields would be none but the best. Let the Little Master waste his money. They would be needing the best of grain.  
  
Spring was not the best possible season for field-dealing. Some farmers were already plowing their fields, and would be reclutant to let the work benefit others. In the wet weather, all fields looked the same, at least to Lang's eye. To his eye, all hobbits also looked the same.  
  
'Why all your people are so cranky, Oswald?'  
  
'You should address me as Mr Sackville, Lang.'  
  
'You should address me as Mr Lang, Oswald. Answer the question.'  
  
'They don't like the sight of you, human. I'd make better prices by myself.'  
  
'They don't seem to enjoy the sight of your bald head very much either. Nor the sound of your Chief's name.' Lang found the Little Master's title amusing, and used it as often as he could and as unrespectfully as he could also.  
  
Suddenly they noticed a spot of red color ahead. Coming closer, they saw it was a hobbit maiden, carrying a basketful of spring flowers. Her wide hips were swinging with her walk. Her hair was a fountain of brown curls, tied with a red ribbon. Her dress was red and cut to flatter her figure. She turned around as they reached her, and the smile on her face dissappeared at the sight of Lang.  
  
'Tell me, little blossom, who owns these fair fields?'  
  
'My father does', the girl replied with pride, 'his name is Maggot.'  
  
'Are you on your way home?'  
  
'As a matter of fact I am.'  
  
'We have matters to discuss with your father. We shall accompany you.'  
  
And Lang stepped down to walk beside the girl. Sackville remained atop his pony.  
  
'What is your name, little red g'reshu?'  
  
'Lily. What is a g'reshu?'  
  
'Never mind. I am Lang. How much a night?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'I'm not stupid. I know what red means. You must be very popular.'  
  
'And what if I am?'  
  
'Spend a night with me, Red Lily.'  
  
The hobbit maiden gave the man one horrified look, and ran, flowers falling behind her from the basket.  
  
'What did you say to her, human?' Mr Sackville looked puzzled; he hadn't been listening.  
  
'None of your business.'  
  
Farmer Maggot was not willing to sell land. Actually, he set the dogs upon the dealers, for insulting his daughter. Lang retreated humiliated. They bought a neighbour's field, and Lang swore to return. 


	3. Withering at Full Bloom

Chapter Three: Withering at Full Bloom  
  
To Lily's dismay, the outrageous human returned with hobbit workers to plough and sow the neighbouring field. He did no work himself, but spent his time ordering the workers about by yelling nasty curses at them.  
  
Nonetheless, Lily did not abandon the red dress. After all, her father had explained with pitchfork in hand what it did not mean. To give up dressing the way she wanted would be admitting the human's victory. Whenever Lily walked past alone, the man whistled. Lily ignored him, holding her head high.  
  
As summer arrived, things got worse all around the Shire. Lotho Sackville- Baggins had gained possession of more than what was good for him: mills and shops, fields and smithies, inns and homes. He held such a monopoly that he could buy things cheap and sell them dear, and poor people had no choice but to pay his prices. More often than not there was nothing to buy, even for the rich. Somehow he bribed or forced all the officials to his side: the shiriffs, the mail-carriers, the borderguards. More and more humans came to the Shire, working for Lotho, silencing oppression with their threats, building ugly big houses, felling trees. Lotho had appointed himself 'Chief' of all the Shire. He now issued all kinds of mindless laws, restricting the liberties of moving around, trading goods, or even using the post. Soon almost everything needed a permission.  
  
The summer was wonderful: the weather mild, animals fat, the fields doing well. But on the inner skies of the minds of the shire-folk, a terrible storm was gathering. Everyone had the feeling they would not be the ones enjoying the fruits of their labour.  
  
Lily somehow associated all this with the dark rider. Mr Baggins had been escaping something, and not long after, his relative Lotho had started dictatoring around. Lily's imagination spun the story like this: The rider had been Death, and Lotho Sackville-Baggins had summoned him to find his relative Frodo, whom he hated. Lotho had dark and mysterious powers, and he could make the humans obey him. But Frodo Baggins must also be quite powerful, for he knew elves and dwarves and wizards. And maybe, just maybe, Death had not caught him. And one day he would come back and free the Shire. And Peregrin Took would come, too. And Lily would be waiting, clad in red. 


	4. The Cutting of the Stem

Chapter Four: The Cutting of the Stem  
  
The time of harvest came, and with it came the Gatherers. They took all they could get "for common good", that is, for themselves. Lang was one of the head Gatherers of East Farthing, and soon he was upon the Maggot family. Needless to say, he had little pity for them. His underlings took all the mushrooms, all the ale, most of the apples, and a great deal of grain and vegetables.  
  
One day Lily went to the woods with her sister-in-law Bluebell, Tommy's wife. They were going to pick raspberries. Having started at the same bush, they soon got separated. Lily was a fast worker, and took no notice of things around her. Suddenly someone clasped an enormous hand over her mouth. Then it was replaced by a filthy rag and the attacker faced Lily, holding her by the shoulders. It was Lang.  
  
In a flash Lily remembered every time she had seen the man: how he had behaved, how he had insulted her. She imagined how Lang saw her, and knew her life was worth nothing to the human.  
  
'Well, well! What have we here. The g'reshu Red Lily.' He grinned wickedly. Lily shuddered. In a way the grin and the look in his slanted eyes were worse than anything that happened after. The expression had all that in it, and Lily's wild imagination was already burning in a thousand pains before the man had managed to open his belt.  
  
He tore off her skirt and whistled in a surprised tone, examining her.  
  
'An untouched g'reshu? They didn't want you? Were you too big for their tastes?'  
  
Lily glared at him angrily, showing no fear, for she felt none, only anger. Anger and hatred, both at the man and at herself for being too weak to defend herself.  
  
'You know, I haven't had a woman for over a year.'  
  
Lang entered her three times. Lily was soon covered in sweat. She kicked like an animal, and was treated like one. The pain was terrible, but not more so than she had imagined. She had a good imagination. When Lang was done, he lifted up a stone and hit Lily on the head.  
  
Maybe he meant to kill her, maybe not. Anyway, Lily Maggot had a thick skull. Bluebell found her lying in a shameful position, bleeding at both ends. She dressed her and fetched the men to carry her home. Lily recovered, but she did not want to speak of what had happened. She feared her father would attempt a revenge, and after that, the family would be in even bigger trouble. She never saw Lang again, except in nightmares. These were frequent. In them she lived the pain and humiliation again and again, with new aspects each time, hearing voices accusing her. She would never tell anyone and she took an oath from Bluebell to keep silent, too.  
  
It was only a nightmare. It hadn't happened. Lily told herself, over and over again, it hadn't happened. 


	5. Strong Roots in the Earth of Shire

Chapter Five: Strong Roots in the Earth of Shire  
  
One day a pony-riding messenger came by the road, and not on an errand of the Chief.  
  
'To battle!' he shouted, 'they are driving the humans away! West Farthing is free, and North almost too! Some of the scum have gone hiding into your woods, Master Maggot!'  
  
Instantly Farmer Maggot ordered all the younger hobbit-men to search the woods, armed with hunting-bows and sharp poles, Maggot's sons leading the dogs. Soon they were joined by the folk of other farms, who had followed in the wake of the messenger.  
  
Maggot himself remained on his farm, and asked the messenger to stay too.  
  
'You've had a hard ride, I'll wager, my boy, and I don't think you would object to a glass of juice or milk - we are sorely out of ale, I'm afraid. I'll see to your pony, and Lily - come out from behind the roses, girl! - can serve you.  
  
Timidly Lily led the young hobbit into the house and bade him sit on a bench. Then she fetched a glass of apple juice, which the boy emptied in one go.  
  
'Would you like more?'  
  
'Thank you and no thank you, miss.'  
  
'You can call me Lily.'  
  
'I'm Alf. Alfons Took.'  
  
'Have you been to battle, Alf?'  
  
'Yes I have, Master Peregrin came to Tookborough all by himself and then we broke through the human's blockade and rode to Bywater, where we aided Master Meriadoc and the others in destroying the human's main force. I killed only one human, I think.'  
  
Lily thought about Peregrin Took, younger and shorter than she herself, as a commander of war. His eyes had not been a killer's eyes. But maybe he had more in him than was visible on the outside. He was a Took, after all. A Took, like Alf here, sitting on the bench next to her... her thoughts wandered, and she looked straight into Alf's eyes. Which were large, and brown, and eager, and looking back at her in a way that made Lily blush. She lowered her eyes, noting in passing how very golden his hair was.  
  
'What are you thinking, Lily?'  
  
'Everything will turn good again, won't it? No more Chief, no more humans, no more mindless rules.' There was pleading in her voice.  
  
'Yes', Alf whispered, and lifted his hand to wipe away the tears that were streaming from Lily's eyes.  
  
IIt was just this moment that Farmer Maggot returned from the stable. He saw the two youngsters sitting close to each other, the boy's hand caressing the girl's cheek.  
  
He knew of Lily's reputation as a heart-breaker, and did not approve of it. He had tolerated it in the past, and had recently hoped the girl would have outgrown these childish games. Right now, however, things were a bit too tense for her to start playing with the feelings of others. She ought to know better than start fluttering her eyelashes at the young war-hero. All the same, Maggot did not direct his anger at his daughter. There would be time for family matters later on.  
  
'You rascal! Leave my Lily alone!' he bellowed.  
  
To his surprise, the youth stood up and looked him squarely in the eye.  
  
'Leave her alone? Wouldn't that be a terrible fate for such a nice and handsome maiden as she? To be left all alone! No, with your permission, of course, I intend to become her friend and visit her as often as I can. But now I really must be going to see if there are any humans left for me to hunt.' With that, he bowed, and walked out the door, to the road and into the forest.  
  
'Lily, Lily, Lily. What on earth were you thinking?' Her mother shook her head in reproach. Outside, the first stars gave their twinkling light.  
  
'I didn't do anything!'  
  
'No? What did you say, then?'  
  
'We talked about the battles.'  
  
'Oh. Of course. The heroic battles. War in the Shire and all my daughter can think about is how handsome the young fighters look.'  
  
'Were you never young, mother?'  
  
'Of course I was, but I was never shallow.'  
  
'I'm not shallow!'  
  
'Hush, my child. The hunters are coming back.'  
  
'Oh, mother, is my red dress clean?'  
  
The man-hunt had been a success: the hobbits had captured five humans and sent some guards to take them to the southern border of the Shire. Alfons Took had taken his pony and led these guards. Many of the tired hunters were offered a simple but nourishing meal at the Maggots' table. Lily's dissapointment faded when one of her brothers started playing his fiddle and their neighbour's son wanted to dance with her. The celebration lasted well into the night, despite the absence of ale. Music and dancing had been on the list of forbidden things, too. 


	6. Petals on the Path of Heroes

Chapter Six: Petals on the Path of Heroes  
  
A score of days passed, full of work done with pleasure: they looted the houses of the humans and got back a substantial amount of their groceries, even the ale.  
  
Then came the day when things had revolved a full circle: with visitors the story had begun, with visitors it ended, or at least reached a peak. There came a small group of young hobbits, led by two unbelievably tall youths on strong ponies. The riders looked strong too, and noble. As if ordained by fate, Lily was at the gate to greet them, and in her red dress, too.  
  
'Good afternoon, sirs! Who may you be and what brings you here?' She curtsied.  
  
'Don't you know me, Lily?'  
  
She gasped, for she recognised his voice - and his smiling eyes. Little Pippin was little no longer, and looked much older than his years. And what he was wearing: chain-mail and a black overtunic with a white tree, sword on his belt and a helmet on his head.  
  
'You remember me then, Peregrin Took? I knew you would come back.'  
  
'Even though I had the Shadow at my heels when we last met?'  
  
Lily found no answer, and turned to look at the other large hobbit. He was as tall as Pippin and more heavily built. He also wore the gear of a fairy- tale knight, but his overtunic was green and embroidered with a white horse.  
  
'May I ask who is your companion here? He looks foreign, but so do you.'  
  
'You have a short memory, Water-Lily.'  
  
But Lily remembered the nickname. She had received it when she was twenty, and a boy had rowed her up and down the Brandywine in a little boat. She had been a different girl, not so proud, not so vain. Later, the boy had not cared to compete for her attention with others. The boy's name had been -  
  
'Merry Brandybuck!'  
  
'Who else? How have you fared in these troubled times, you and your family?'  
  
A shadow erased Lily's smile.  
  
'Come in, the lot of you. Father will be glad to see you.'  
  
'That's what we're here for. To see your father', said Pippin.  
  
'And to give him thanks for helping us a year ago', said Merry.  
  
Many an astounding story was told that evening around the dinner-table of the Maggot family. Lily was sure the stories were true, because they seemed altogether too wonderful to be anyones invention. A ring and a king, elves and dwarves, armies and battles filled her head and overflowed in question after question. The rest of the family would have preferred to hear more of the recent events in the Shire, but as it was, they still learned a great deal.  
  
As the young heroes started preparing to leave for Crickhollow, just like on that night so long ago, Lily followed them to the yard. There she took Pippin aside and asked him a question that had been burning in her heart.  
  
'Among the humans you've seen, was there a tall one with grey clothes, a ponytail of black hair, and a red scarf on his head?'  
  
Pippin thought for a moment.  
  
'Yes, I remember seeing such a one.'  
  
'What happend to him?'  
  
'He got killed at Bywater.'  
  
'Who killed him?'  
  
'My cousin Alf, I think.'  
  
'Alf! Alfons Took?'  
  
'Do you know him?'  
  
'He was here some days ago.'  
  
'Why did you ask about the human?'  
  
'He was evil.'  
  
'Weren't they all?'  
  
'More or less.'  
  
That night sleep escaped Lily. She thought first about Pippin, how much he had changed for the better. He would be a great Thain one day. There was no mistaking the way he looked at Lily: there was a promise in his eyes of fun to be shared. He had learned the game.  
  
Then Lily's thoughts turned to Alf. The youth had used mild words in front of her father: nice, handsome, friend. But the fire in his eyes had contradicted them, offering more. And he was the one who had killed Lang.  
  
The image of Lang rose unbidden in Lily's mind. She shuddered under the sheets.  
  
To drive the nightmare away, she summoned another image. A golden afternoon, willows weeping by the river, birds singing ever so softly, a white boat gliding close to the shore. A boy and a girl, the girl in a green dress, the boy clad in brown. Her hair so very thick, so very fuzzy, her features like carved of wood. But the boy looks at her as if she were beautiful. He rows slowly, and as he leans towards her, he suddenly stops the movement there, to look into her eyes.  
  
'I love your eyes, Water-Lily, your eyes the most. They are greener than the willow-leaves, greener than the reeds, greener than anything.'  
  
'Oh, Merry!' The girl places a soft kiss on his forehead.  
  
And the birds sing, and the sun shines, and the afternoon is so very long. A pearl in a cord of golden afternoons. But now the necklace is broken, and all the pearls are lost.  
  
For there had been a silent reproach in Merry's eyes at their meeting. You have a short memory, Water-Lily. You have forgotten how to be yourself. You have become a doll. You dress in red because nobody else does. You have become proud. You do not care about the feelings of others. And now you are going to break Pippin's heart. For you are not the woman he thinks you are. Merry had not spoken such words, but the feelings were easy to read in his eyes. In this way, he was like father.  
  
What shall you do, Lily my girl? 


	7. Blossom's Bud

Chapter Seven: Blossom's Bud  
  
What shall you do, Lily my girl?  
  
No blood, my baby, two months, no blood.  
  
What shall you do?  
  
What will your mother say?  
  
Soon it will show.  
  
No blood, my baby, two months, no blood.  
  
You should have told them.  
  
Two months, no blood.  
  
Lily's thoughts went round and round the problem, as her hands flew on the loom.  
  
'For goodness' sake, Lily, look at what you're doing. You're messing the pattern!'  
  
'I'm sorry, mother.'  
  
'What's the matter with you? All the week you've been breaking dishes, stepping on the dogs' tails, putting sugar into soup and salt on strawberries. It's about some boy or other, isn't it?'  
  
Lily sulked.  
  
'Answer me, girl!'  
  
'It's no boy, mother. It's worse.'  
  
Here goes, Lily thought, double or nothing.  
  
'And would you tell your mother what is worse than a boy?'  
  
'It's not my fault!'  
  
'What isn't?'  
  
'I'm with child, mother.'  
  
For a moment, Mrs Maggot was speechless.  
  
'And that isn't your fault?'  
  
'He forced me!'  
  
Instantly, her mother's expression changed. She was still angry, but not at her poor violated child.  
  
'Who did this to you? Who would do such a dirty thing? This is the Shire, good heavens, not some barbarian wilderness.'  
  
'Lang did, mother. The human. The overseer.'  
  
'Oh, my child! A human! Do you understand what it means?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Your life is in danger. Human children are big, too big. I've heard a story from Bree, a sad one.'  
  
'Oh, mother, what shall I do?'  
  
'We can do nothing but hope for the best. You have large hips, after all.'  
  
Poor Lily's stomach grew quickly, and there was no stopping the rumours. Lily did not want to proclaim the father's identity, but she had to, when Alfons Took got into trouble for visiting her. After that, the gossiping old women spoke in tones of pity, and gossiped all the more.  
  
The story reached Crickhollow, where Merry and Pippin were sharing the joys of bachelor life in the little house Frodo once had bought 'for himself'. They arranged parties and rode around the Shire on real horses, visiting friends. It was from some friend or other that they happened to hear the news about Maggot's youngest daughter.  
  
Once back at home, they discussed the matter over second breakfast.  
  
'The girl cannot be blamed. No-one would expect that kind of thing to happen in the Shire', Merry stated.  
  
'If someone other than Lang is to be blamed, I am.'  
  
'You, Pippin?'  
  
'Remember how Elrond wanted to send me back to the Shire. We would have been prepared, the humans couldn't have ordered us about like that.'  
  
'I'm glad you didn't turn back. We needed you right where you were.'  
  
'Waking monsters in Moria, getting captured by orcs, looking into a Palantir? Some use I was.'  
  
'How many times I have to go this through, you thick-headed Took? You just want to hear your achievements all over again. You saved us from the orcs, helped agitate the ents, rescued Faramir and killed an Olog-Hai. Not bad for such a whelp as you.'  
  
Pippin grinned. Then his expression turned unusually serious.  
  
'I've been meaning to ask you. You and Lily?' He pointed at Merry with the butter-knife. Merry sighed.  
  
'A long time ago. We had just started our tweens. We played at being in love, or loved being at play. She was different then. I wonder what happened to her.'  
  
'Kids sometimes change a lot in their tweens.'  
  
'Listen to you! Barely out of yours, and talking like an old gaffer.'  
  
'So you are not interested in her anymore?'  
  
'No. And I gather you are?'  
  
'Uh-huh.' Pippin smiled a foolish smile.  
  
'Be careful. Did you hear about that first rumour?'  
  
'What?'  
  
'The one saying the baby was Alf's.'  
  
'Oh, that one. But it isn't true.'  
  
'Haven't you thought there might be some truth to it nonetheless? The rumour got started because Alf was visiting Lily. You have a rival, Pippin my boy.'  
  
'Oh dear. That's why she was so exited.'  
  
'When?'  
  
'When I told her that Alf killed Lang.'  
  
'There's Lily Maggot for you. Shallow as a puddle.'  
  
'No she isn't!'  
  
'Please yourself.'  
  
'Anyway, I had better pay her a visit. Shall you accompany me? For the sake of the look of things.'  
  
'I'll come.' 


	8. Dried Leaves

Chapter Eight: Dried Leaves  
  
'Lily!' Her mother's call echoed in the hall. Lily laid aside her knitting. She had been working on a small sweater, the size to fit a three-year-old hobbit toddler. She imagined that it would fit her newborn baby. Slowly she stood up and made her way to the hall of the house. Her pregnancy did not really make moving all that difficult yet, but the knowledge of it did. Two whole months she had denied the facts, imagining she was just gaining weight. Gaining weight when the Gatherers took all the food! How silly of her. She did not really know what to think of the new life inside her. Two souls in one body, she felt more alone than ever before.  
  
'You have visitors, Lily.' Her gaze turned from her mother to the two tall youths at the door. Lily imagined what she must look in their eyes: her hair unwashed, her skirt tight over her belly. She hadn't fitted in the red dress for weeks.  
  
Merry and Pippin greeted her courteously.  
  
'I brought you some gifts', said Pippin. He gave her a bag of sweets, a box of cookies, and a bouquet of red lilies.  
  
'Where did you find lilies? It's almost winter!' Lily exclaimed.  
  
'They are dried flowers. My aunt can make them very lifelike.'  
  
Lily examined the flowers. They vere papery to the touch and gave only the faintest of scents. Nonetheless they were beautiful. Lily could not help comparing them to herself.  
  
What was she but a lifeless memory of something she once had been?  
  
Lily led her guests into the great room of the house. Her mother brought ale for the youths and tea for Lily. Then she left them. Some members of the family were busy with their crafts around the room, but the room was big, so they would not hear the conversation.  
  
Most of the talk was done by Pippin, while Lily gave short answers to the questions.  
  
Was her family treating her well? Yes.  
  
Did she feel all right? Almost.  
  
Was there anything she needed, anything at all?  
  
A husband, Lily thought, but she didn't say it aloud.  
  
'Nothing', she said instead.  
  
The conversation was polite, avoiding the big questions like:  
  
Whom did Lily Maggot love?  
  
And how long would Lily Maggot live?  
  
Suddenly Merry broke their excange of pleasantries. Lily had wondered why he had come; Alfons Took had no need for a chaperon, so why did Pippin?  
  
'Say what you came to say, you big oaf, and then let us be going', Merry told Pippin, obviously feigning boredom.  
  
Lily gave them both a questioning glance.  
  
'Meriadoc Brandybuck is my witness here, as I ask you, Lily Maggot: will you marry me?' Pippin stood up, looking very serious and faintly nervous.  
  
Lily's lips started to form a positive reply, then halted. First time in over a year she had doubts about wether she truly wanted to become Mrs Peregrin Took. Pippin noticed her silence and started trembling slightly. Lily could not face his pain and found herself looking at Merry instead.  
  
'It's not so difficult, Lily. Just tell him if you love him.'  
  
In his eyes Lily saw another message: she felt her own deeds reflected back at her. She had adored Pippin for his father's high position, and later, his heroic reputation. She had also kept Alfons' heart in store, just in case she would need him. Love? Lily Maggot had not known love for a long time.  
  
'I'm sorry, Pippin. I don't love you. I loved the heir of the thain.'  
  
Pippin's mouth dropped open:  
  
'But I am... oh, I see.' And the coldness in his eyes showed that he did.  
  
Pippin said a hasty goodbye and went for his horse. Merry lingered a moment longer, gazing straight into Lily's eyes.  
  
'You have backbone after all, Water-Lily, for it was a brave thing to do.'  
  
'I need backbone to bear my burden, now all the more.' 


	9. Mistletoe

Chapter Nine: Mistletoe  
  
The Yule that began the year 1420 was a happy one indeed, twice so for the shadows that had clung to the peoples hearts a year ago. Food was plenty, and song, and dancing. Gifts were given, joyous greetings exchanged, and also sweet kisses under boughs of mistletoe.  
  
There was a bunch of the pearl-berried plant hanging from the beam of the great room at the Maggots' house, too. Lily often stopped to look at it with dewy eyes. No more visitors for Lily Maggot, and the worst of it was that it was by her own choice. She had told Alf she could only give him friendship, but that friendship had not been of the lasting ones. In weeks the had grown tired of each other. Lily did not want to charm anyone ever again. She doubted she could, what with the child coming. And after it was born, if she lived, she would be a mother with a mother's duties. Alf and Pippin had been rare exeptions, willing to become father to a half-human child.  
  
However, Lily did have a Yule visitor, on the second day of the feast. The horse walked effortlessly through the blanket of snow that would have halted most of the stubborn ponies of the Shire. The tall rider was wrapped in a cloack grey as frost.  
  
Farmer Maggot came in from the cold weather.  
  
'The young master is tending to his horse.' His eyes asked: what was it about his misfortunate, strange-looking Lily that kept them coming like bees for honey?  
  
Their eyes met, hers full of questions, his full of secrets.  
  
'Why have you come?'  
  
'I could't stay away any longer.'  
  
He pointed at the ceiling. Lily glimpsed the mistletoe, then his lips were on hers. He tasted of snow, and pipe-weed.  
  
'When the snow melts, the birds sing, and flowers rise from the ground, will you come boating at the Brandywine?'  
  
'I will', said Lily. Then she added, with mischief in her eyes:  
  
'Merry Yule.' 


	10. The Gardener's Hand

Chapter Ten: The Gardener's Hand  
  
A golden afternoon, willows weeping by the river, birds singing ever so softly, a white boat gliding close to the shore. A youth and a maiden, the maiden in a green dress, the youth clad in brown. Her hair so very thick, so very fuzzy, her features like carved of wood, her stomach unnaturally large. But the youth looks at her as if she were beautiful. He rows slowly, and as he leans towards her, he suddenly stops the movement there, to look into her eyes.  
  
'I love your eyes, Water-Lily, your eyes the most. They are green as the pastures of Rohan.'  
  
'Oh, Merry!' The maiden places a soft kiss on his lips.  
  
And the birds sing, and the sun shines, and the afternoon is so very long. A pearl the size of a mistletoe berry in a twofold cord of golden afternoons.  
  
They knew now that they loved each other, and knowing it, everything fit into place. They had supposed Pippin would feel betrayed, but all he did was speak loving words of a girl she had met. She was young still, twenty- five, so Pippin would have to wait. He would wait together with Merry, for Lily was not ready for marriage either. The wounds left by Lang would take time to heal, and Lily wanted to face the birthing first. Merry kept reassuring her he would love her no matter what the baby looked like, no matter if she could bear no more children. But they both knew that was not what kept Lily from becoming Merry's wife just yet. It was her own love she wanted to be sure of, not Merry's.  
  
The time of birthing came in the wonderful summer of 1420. Lily was in pain for a night and a day, lying in her bed, her sisters taking turns in watching over her, ready to wake the midwife Mrs. Bolger slumbering in a chair. Finally the child was born, healthy and large. The pain, however, did not leave the weakened body of the mother. She called for Merry, and reluctantly the midwife sent for him.  
  
Merry had been staying at the Maggots' farm for a while, waiting for this day. He was sitting on the bench in front of the house, smoking nervously, when the midwife's daughter came to tell him:  
  
'The baby is born. A fine, healthy girl. Lily wants to see you.'  
  
Merry ran through the house, halting only to knock at Lily's door. Mrs Bolger opened it, whispering:  
  
'Don't upset her. She is tired, poor thing.'  
  
Lily lay in bed, eyes closed, shivering under the blankets, pale and wasted.  
  
'Oh, Lily.' Merry kissed her cheek.  
  
Slowly the green eyes opened, and Lily managed a smile.  
  
'Have you seen my daughter?'  
  
Lily's sister, Daisy, brought the baby to them. The child had the golden hair characteristic to many of the hobbit children born that year, a touch of Galadriel's blessing, perhaps. Her eyes also were golden, and slanted like tiny almonds. She was half larger than a hobbit newborn.  
  
'What shall I name her?' Lily asked Merry when he held the baby, ' I can't think of a flower that would resemble her. I love her, deeper than feelings, and I want to give her a good name despite her blood.'  
  
'How about giving her a good name because of her blood? Humans can be noble too, and brave, and bright like a sword's edge. How about naming her Eowyn?'  
  
'That is a good name. Are you sure you don't want to save it for your own daughter?'  
  
'She will be my daughter.'  
  
Lily smiled. Then she suddenly started trembling violently.  
  
'What is it? Are you all right?' Merry was worried. He put the child on the bed next to Lily.  
  
'No. The bleeding didn't stop. Merry, I am afraid.'  
  
'Can nothing be done?' Merry demanded of the midwife.  
  
'Nothing, sir.' Mrs. Bolger had tears in her eyes.  
  
'Lily, don't leave me!'  
  
'You must promise me one thing.'  
  
'I will do anything you ask. But please don't leave me.'  
  
'Take care of Eowyn.'  
  
'She is my daughter.'  
  
'I think she needs a mother, too.'  
  
'You are her mother. No-one else.'  
  
Lily was turning paler all the time. The blankets smelled of blood.  
  
'I will be gone soon. You will find someone.'  
  
'Don't ask this of me.'  
  
'Follow your heart. Keep my love in your memory. And raise Eowyn among the living.'  
  
Crying, Merry kissed her. Then he covered her with the blankets, and laid the baby in her arms.  
  
He watched her and images swarmed in his mind: Lily singing a lullaby, teaching Eowyn to walk, running after the child, mending her clothes, baking birthday-cakes, himself on a walk with his family, alone at night with his wife, days passing, the child growing, their love growing too. In moments a lifetime passed in front of his eyes, a life he would never live. For Lily's cheeks had lost all colour and her body was turning cold. The baby cried under the weight of stiffened arms. Slowly Merry reached out and took his daughter in his lap.  
  
'Cry for your mother, Eowyn Brandybuck. Cry and remember her.'  
  
Eowyn Brandybuck remembered, for her father often shared his memories of her mother. Eowyn felt she was different from the other children of Brandy Hall. She was large for her age and somewhat clumsy. She was also stubborn, brave and easily angered, so the others soon learned not to tease her. When she was six years old, her father took a new wife. Estella Bolger, an unattractive, shy, kind-hearted woman, the daughter of a midwife. The love of the couple was a shared loneliness and a friendly attraction. Eowyn called Estella 'mommy', but when she spoke of 'mother' she always meant Lily. Estella's son, Eomer, became the heir of Meriadoc the Magnificent.  
  
At a grave in the Brandybuck family graveyard, stood a stone carved with no name, for it could not bear the name of Brandybuck. In an another way it was marked: lilies grew there and always would, lilies red as life, lilies white as death, lilies green-leaved. 


	11. A note from the author

Author's note  
  
There. Wasn't so hard. This is the final version of the story. Reviews opened my eyes to the faults of the previous one. I know this version is heartbreakingly sad, but maybe tragedy is more my piece of cake than happily ever after. You may hear of Eowyn Brandybuck later…  
  
The hobbits do celebrate Yule. This is mentioned in the last chapter of the 'Lord of the Rings', and also in the Calendar of the Shire in the Appendixes. Mistletoe is my own addition on the basis that the hobbit society has a certain British air.  
  
Your feedback is important! Feel free to say anything you want.  
  
And please read and review my other stories, too. (You can find them by clicking at the link of my name on the top of the page).  
  
'Nár Tinwen' is my firstborn, a Maia's adventures throughout the Ages.  
  
'The Tale of a King' is a short piece of Silmarillion humour.  
  
'The Song of the Dark Bird' looks at the world –and Glorfindel- through the sorrow-filled eyes of Moriel the Poet.  
  
That last one is probably my best work.  
  
I'm writing a novel. If it is ever published I'm going to "spam" everyone who has reviewed me… you have been warned. :-) 


End file.
